Naturally everyone gazed at her with unrestrained curiosity, and rather to their disappointment did not see anything about the new girl that looked at all dreadful or desperately wicked. In fact, there was something rather childish about the solitary figure, in spite of her fifteen years; an impression due to the slightness of her build, her height, which was rather under than above the average, the shortness of her tunic and her straight bobbed hair, black near the roots and ending round her ears in a kind of rusty brown. Like the rest of her figure, her features were small and delicately cut, her complexion olive and her eyes grey-blue, under lashes that were long and dark. She came forward apparently without either shyness or eagerness, as Allison called to her.
"Everyone gazed at her with unrestrained curiosity."
"Your name's Monica, isn't it?" the Head Girl asked with a friendly smile.
"Yes, Monica Carr," was the brief response, but there was no return of Allison's smile.
"Well, these are girls of the Fifth, which will probably be your form. I'll just introduce you to two or three of them, then I'll clear off and leave you to make friends. This is Irene, the top girl. This is Glenda, the shining light of the dramatic society, and here is Ida Preston, the most accurate netball shooter we have ever possessed. Oh, and this is Nat. I mustn't forget Nat, as you are to share studies with her."
The girls, true to their compact, greeted the newcomer with as much naturalness as they could simulate, and Allison, her mind relieved, took her departure.
"'Fraid we shall have to postpone our meeting," observed Glenda. "The tea bell will soon be ringing. We must have it later. Come along to my study about half an hour before supper bell, those who wish, and we'll fix up our match arrangements then."
Nat turned to the girl who stood silently at her side. "Come along and I'll show you our study," she suggested. "Then if you've any books and things you want to keep there you can bring them down."